


Starry Night

by citrinesunset



Category: Inception
Genre: Community: i-reversebang, F/M, Light Ariadne/Saito, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne thinks Saito wants to seduce her. The question is what kind of seduction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starry Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://i-reversebang.livejournal.com/profile)[**i_reversebang**](http://i-reversebang.livejournal.com/), for [](http://beili.livejournal.com/profile)[**beili**](http://beili.livejournal.com/)'s excellent artwork. The art masterpost is [here](http://beili.dreamwidth.org/55041.html).

  
When he'd made the offer, she'd made it clear that she didn't want anything sexual.

Ariadne wasn't naive. She knew such generosity was likely to come with an ulterior motive. It wasn't like Saito wasn't handsome, and she was sure he'd be a decent lover. But she didn't like the idea of him trying to buy her affection.

Saito had been unflustered and unconcerned by her bluntness. "Of course," he'd said. "I offer only as a colleague. As a friend."

The offer was extravagant in theory: Saito had an apartment in Paris that he didn't use often. He offered to let her use it, rent-free.

But according to Saito, it was a modest place. Just somewhere to stay when he did business in Paris. He had a few other apartments in other major cities around the globe, in places where Proclus Global did a lot of business. But he only used the Paris apartment every couple months, if that. And there were two bedrooms.

It was a good deal. Maybe the best deal Ariadne would ever get. Still, it had seemed like such a big imposition that she almost hadn't accepted. But after a few weeks, she was glad she did.

The apartment didn't feel like it belonged to someone else. It was utilitarian in a very high-class way. The furniture was nice, and there were a few pieces of artwork on the walls to make the place feel homey, but it rang false. Like a hotel room. There was no individualized touch.

Still, she tried to respect his privacy. She took a quick peek in the master bedroom when she first moved in, and then left it alone.

But a few weeks after moving, in a light bulb burned out in the kitchen, Ariadne had to look for a replacement.

She couldn't find any bulbs in the hall closet, so she ventured into the master bedroom. The large walk-in closet was almost empty, but not completely. There was no sign of any light bulbs, but there were a couple garment bags hanging up, and Ariadne assumed they held suits. And in the corner, there was a distinctive silver briefcase.

Ariadne froze at the sight of it. For a moment, she considered that it might not be a PASIV, but an ordinary briefcase. Feeling a little guilty, she crouched down and laid the briefcase on its side. It was unlocked, and she opened it.

It _was_ a PASIV.

Why had Saito left it there? It wasn't the type of thing one forgot.

She gently brushed her fingers along the mechanisms. She hadn't used one of these since the Fischer job. On more than one occasion, she'd considered going to a dream den. There was at least one in Paris, though she wasn't certain of the location or how to gain entry. But Arthur had scared her with stories of incompetent technicians, dirty needles, and bootleg Somnacin enough to keep her away.

Slowly, she closed the case and put it back in the position she found it in. She stood up, brushed lint off her pants, and turned off the light as she left.

Back in foyer, she got her coat out of the hall closet and prepared to go out. She would need to stop by the store to get light bulbs, and maybe some dinner while she was at it.

It was early November, and Paris was getting cold. The sky was covered in a thick blanket of clouds, and Ariadne could see her breath.

Sometimes, Ariadne thought about calling Arthur up and seeing if he had work for her. She was sure he was still working in extraction.

She hadn't spoken to Cobb since that day they arrived at LAX. Arthur assured her that he was doing well. She could have been hurt that Cobb hadn't made any effort to talk to her, but she wasn't surprised. He wanted to move on.

She had intended to move on, too. She wasn't a criminal by trade. She had a life.

Even outside of extraction, shared dreaming could be risky. She'd seen what happened to Cobb. It was easy to tell herself that she wouldn't lose control, but she was smart enough to know she couldn't promise that. But she also couldn't swear that the risk wasn't worth it.

After dinner, she found herself back in the master bedroom closet, kneeling in front of the PASIV. In addition to the briefcase, there was a smaller box that contained three new vials of Somnacin and some sterile needles.

As she picked up the PASIV, doubt plagued her. Was it safe to go under on her own? She'd never asked Cobb or Arthur. But she'd gone under dozens of times. She knew the procedure.

She felt like an intruder in the master bedroom, so she carried the PASIV to her room. She set it on the bed and, without letting herself think about it too much, started to set it up.

There was a manual tucked into the top of the case, but Ariadne found that even months later, she didn't need it. She carefully loaded a Somnacin vial into the machine, and set the timer for five minutes.

There were some individually-wrapped alcohol swabs in with the vials. She ripped one of the packets open, rolled up her left sleeve, and rubbed the cold swab over her skin.

She hesitated briefly with the needle. She wasn't squeamish—if anything, seeing the needle go into her skin gave her a sense of awe and curiosity. But she wasn't used to doing this, and she didn't want to do it wrong.

Every time she was connected to a PASIV, there was a brief moment of fear before she went to sleep. This time, after pushing the button, some belated doubts came to her. What if there were additives to the Somnacin that she didn't know about? What if there was a sedative?

It was too late to worry. She felt herself gently lose consciousness.

 

* * *

 

It was a mild spring day, and Ariadne was walking along the Seine. The sun beat down on her head, and she wished she'd remembered to bring her sunglasses.

She felt like she was forgetting something, and she tried to mentally retrace her steps. She was on her way to—

Ariadne stopped. Where had she been going? She tried to think back, to before she left the apartment, but couldn't.

The last thing she remembered was lying on her bed, pushing the button on the PASIV to start the flow of Somnacin into her veins.

A chill coursed through her. Even after all this time, she'd thought her wits would still be sharp. During her time working with Cobb, she'd gotten to a point where she could tell she was dreaming almost immediately.

Obviously, she'd gotten rusty.

She looked at her watch. She should have a half hour of dream-time, and she figured she probably spent five minutes already.

That gave her twenty-five minutes to make the most of the dream.

She'd never been under on her own before, and she was surprised by how soothing it was. The only projections were her own. As far as she knew, she could do whatever she wanted.

She made the river shimmer as though it carried specks of gold. She made the street stretch on infinitely, so that she never had to stop walking alongside the water.

When she woke up, lying on her bed with an IV line connecting her to the PASIV, the darkness outside the window and the November chill that had seeped into the apartment were a shock to her.

She winced as she removed the needle from her arm. She knew she couldn't use the PASIV again—one time would lead to another, and she couldn't use up Saito's stash of Somnacin. She almost wished she hadn't gone under in the first place. It was going to be hard to stay away.

 

* * *

 

She didn't see Saito until December. He called her one day and told her he was going to be coming in for business. He arrived a couple days later.

Ariadne had had the apartment to herself for over a month, and the sudden presence of another person was strange. But as far as roommates went, Saito was almost invisible. He would leave early in the morning and wouldn't come back until late, having spent the whole day in meetings and business dinners.

The first few days, he ate dinner out either by himself or with business partners. On the fourth day, he seemed to get a break and invited Ariadne to join him.

It seemed polite to accept, and besides, it would take away some of the awkwardness that came with sharing an apartment with someone she rarely saw and barely knew.

As she got ready for dinner, she realized she had no idea what to wear. Opening her bedroom door, she leaned on the door frame and called out, "This place we're going to—how formal is it?"

Saito's voice called back from the living room. "I wouldn’t call it formal. Don't worry."

That didn't help much. She suspected his idea of formal might differ from hers. And he always looked impeccable.

She didn't have much in her closet that wasn't casual, but she found a dark red dress that, while not formal by any means, would blend in better than jeans or corduroy slacks. And she could dress it up with a pair of heels.

They took a cab to the restaurant. It was busy when they arrived, and Ariadne wondered what Saito had said to get a reservation there on what she assumed was short notice. The amount of influence he could wield was somehow both impressive and unnerving.

She still wasn't used to being alone with Saito. During the Fischer job, she'd often felt like she was in the background. She'd been fine with that—she lacked the experience and confidence of the other members of the team, and it was more comfortable sometimes to take a step back. But it made her current situation all the more unfathomable.

As they took a seat at their table, Saito said, "I hope you like this place. It's one of my favorites when I'm in Paris."

The restaurant was dimly lit, with dark walls and soft blue neon lights in the recesses.

"I'm sure it'll be great," Ariadne said. "I'm not picky."

"I'm sorry we haven't had much opportunity to talk. When I'm in town, I find myself consumed with work. I trust you're happy with the apartment?"

"Yes. Yes, definitely. The apartment is great. Thanks again for—"

"Don't mention it. Since I hired a new president for my Paris offices, I've spent less time here than I used to. It's regrettable. Paris is a wonderful city. But these days, my business keeps me in Japan and South America. I'm glad to know that my apartment here is appreciated and cared for. It gives me less to worry about."

Saito picked up his menu and began to study it, and Ariadne followed suit. Their waiter came, and Saito selected a bottle of wine.

While they waited for it, Saito said, "I noticed that you used the PASIV."

Ariadne, who'd been reading the entrée list, looked up. "I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't know if it was okay or not. I should have asked."

Saito raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. "There's no need to apologize. I left it at the apartment so you could use it if you wished. It's my fault—I should have mentioned that. I'm afraid it slipped my mind."

Ariadne let out her breath and relaxed. "Thank you. It's been a while since I went under. It was...nice."

"I could get you one of your own, if you'd like. They're difficult to find, but I have connections."

The waiter returned with the bottle of wine, a Sauvignon Blanc. Ariadne and Saito placed their dinner orders, and then, as the waiter, left, Ariadne took a sip of her wine. She didn't drink often, and the dryness overwhelmed her at first.

Something was bothering her, in the back of her mind. Without thinking, she asked, "Is this a date?"

She almost regretted the question. But then, subtlety had never been her strong suit.

"Did you want it to be one?"

"That's not an answer."

"You have nothing to fear from me. I'm a married man."

"Is that what you tell your mistress?"

He studied her for a moment, and then laughed.

"You know," he said, "when Cobb wanted to hire you, I had doubts. I thought you were too young, too inexperienced. But you reminded me that my judgment isn't always as perfect as I like to believe. It's rare that I meet a person of your age with your boldness and instincts."

"Then you won't be offended if I question why you've taken an interest in me."

Saito took a sip of his wine, staring at her over the rim of his glass as he did so.

Setting his glass down, he said, "And you think I might want to seduce you. A smart deduction, but there are many types of seduction."

"And what kind is this?"

"I did not become successful by relying only on myself. I've learned to surround myself with people whose skills and talents can help me obtain my goals."

"You want me to do something for you?"

"Right now? No. But I think it will be mutually beneficial if I maintain our acquaintance."

Ariadne felt herself smile. "So, your idea of networking is to give someone an apartment."

She had to admit it was effective.

"You and I share some mutual interests," Saito said. "You understand things that I cannot share with many people. Things that I have had to keep secret."

Ariadne thought of Saito in Limbo. She hadn't seen him, and Cobb never told her what he'd found when he went searching for Saito.

But he would have lived for years down there. Waiting.

Ariadne couldn't begin to imagine that.

 

* * *

 

When they got home, Ariadne started for her bedroom, intending to get changed. Saito's voice stopped her.

"I was going to use the PASIV. Would you join me?"

She froze. She hesitated before answering, but only because she didn't want to seem too eager. She suspected some people might see an eagerness to dream as some sign of addiction. Of course, Saito had no room to judge. He was the one who kept a spare PASIVs around.

"Is it all right?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. "With the wine?"

"Perfectly safe. We drank very little."

She'd gone under once after having some wine when they were planning the Fischer job, and it had been fine then. She hadn't thought of it at the time, and no one had brought it up. These days, if she wanted to dream, she had to rely on herself to know the right way to do things. She didn't have anyone around to ask, unless she called up Arthur. And she didn't want to rely on him. And maybe she was less inclined to trust others. She didn't bear a grudge against Cobb, but the fact remained that she could have ended up stuck in Limbo because of him. It wasn't like school, where she could put a certain amount of faith in her professors.

"Okay," she said. "Let's do it."

While Saito went to get the PASIV, Ariadne went into the living room. She stepped out of her high heels and sat on the sofa.

Saito returned, carrying the PASIV suitcase in one hand and the smaller box with the Somnacin in the other. He set the cases on the coffee table, and Ariadne watched as he began to set the PASIV up.

"How did you get this stuff, anyway?" she asked. "It's not like you can just buy it."

At least, not without finding an underground chemist like Yusuf. Maybe that was what Saito had done. Saito seemed like a man who knew how and where to get what he wanted.

"I obtained the PASIV from a pharmaceutical research company that I own stock in. They're currently conducting research on new compounds. It's easy for me to get small amounts of the Somnacin they use."

"Wait, this stuff is experimental?" she asked, looking at the vials on the coffee table.

"All things considered, isn't all Somnacin experimental?"

Ariadne didn't know if she'd put it like that. But, thinking about it, she had to accept that the samples from the research company couldn't be any more experimental than the stuff she'd let Yusuf pump into her bloodstream for weeks.

"So, what makes this stuff special?"

"It's supposed to cause particularly sharp dreams."

"Hmm. How much time are you putting on the timer?"

"I was thinking ten minutes."

When the PASIV was ready, Ariadne inserted her own line and lay down on the sofa. Saito took a seat in an armchair. Ariadne watched as he rolled up his sleeve and inserted the cannula into his arm. When he was done, he looked at her. She nodded, and he hit the button on the PASIV.

 

* * *

 

When Ariadne woke up, she was still on the sofa. She couldn't remember the dream.

Saito was gone, as was the PASIV. Sitting up, Ariadne looked down at her arm. She felt the spot where she remembered inserting the needle, but there was no residual tenderness, and she couldn't see the needle prick.

"Hello?" she said. "Saito?"

She stood up. She slipped her heels back on and went to look for him.

The door to the master bedroom was closed. Ariadne put her ear against it, but couldn't hear any activity on the other side.

Knocking, she said, "Saito? Are you in there?"

There was no response. She put her hand on the doorknob, but hesitated. Slowly, she turned it and cracked the door open.

When she peeked inside, she gasped. There was no bedroom on the other side. Instead, a concrete staircase led upward. A cool breeze came through the doorway, and Ariadne could see the stars in the uncovered sky.

Slowly, she stepped through the doorway. The door clicked shut behind her, and she looked over the shoulder. The other side of the door was metal, now, covered in thick gray paint. She opened the door, almost expecting the apartment to be gone. But the hallway was still there on the other side, looking as normal as it ever had.

She let the door close, and started up the stairs.

The staircase led up to an alley, and outside the alley, Ariadne could make out bright neon lights and hear cars going by. She stepped out onto a city sidewalk, and looked around. She didn't recognize the city. She wasn't sure if it actually existed. The street was awash in neon lights and brightly-lit skyscrapers, and it reminded Ariadne of the time she'd visited New York and had seen Times Square at night.

If she'd had any doubt, the sky would have revealed the city's falseness. The light pollution should have obscured the stars, but the sky was impossibly clear. It reminded her of a field trip to a planetarium she'd gone on as a child. She remembered how bright the stars had looked projected onto the dark, domed ceiling. It had been gorgeous, but also a little false. Just like the sky she saw now.

She still had no idea where Saito was. This was obviously his dream, and he couldn't be very far.

Ariadne had never considered what would happen if she couldn't find the person she was dreaming with.

She picked a direction and started walking. The projections didn't pay her any attention as they walked past.

After a few minutes, she started to wonder if she should turn around and go the other way. But then she saw him—or at least, she thought it was him. He was perhaps fifty feet ahead, crossing the street at the intersection.

"Saito!" she called out. But if it was him, he didn't seem to hear her. By the time she reached the intersection, the crossing light had changed.

Ariadne didn't feel like getting run over, even if it would, hopefully, just cause her to wake up. She tried to will the light to change, hoping that small manipulation of the environment wouldn't attract the projections' attention.

The moment the light changed, Ariadne darted across the street. She couldn't see Saito anymore, but she hurried in the direction she thought he'd gone. It was hard to run in her heels; she wished she'd dreamed up some better shoes.

She was in a less densely-traveled area, now, but there was no sign of Saito. She began to wonder if she'd actually seen him, or if it had just been a projection.

This was his dream—where would Saito go? Arthur had told her once that when someone built a dream without a blueprint, some parts were usually more detailed than others. Looking around, Ariadne tried to find anything that stood out.

The building across the street fit the bill. At first glance, it looked like all the others. But at closer inspection, Ariadne could see that there was more detail in the architecture. Behind the glass front doors, she could make out a reception desk and potted plants.

She jogged over, her heels clicking on the cement pavement. She almost expected the building to be locked—in real life, it probably would be. The lobby was dimly lit, and there was no sign of life. But the door opened easily.

"Hello?" she called out as she stepped inside. There was no answer. Beyond the reception desk was a wide staircase that branched off into two smaller ones, and Ariadne started up it.

On the second floor lobby, she found him. He was standing with his back to her and his hands in his pockets, looking out the large plate glass window.

Without turning around, he said, "I was wondering when you'd show up. I looked for you."

"I was in the apartment."

She looked down at her feet. She could see her reflection in the marble floor.

"We're a long way from Paris," he said.

"Yeah, well, I think the apartment came with us. What is this place? It's real, isn’t it?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "It will be. It's a new office I'm having built in Montreal."

"Cobb told me it's a bad idea to dream about real places."

"And do you agree?"

"I think he probably knows better than I do. By the way, have you talked to him? Since we finished the job, I mean."

"Mr. Cobb? Only once."

He didn't elaborate, and Ariadne sensed it would be wrong to ask for details. "I haven't spoken to him."

"I believe Mr. Cobb wishes to put dreaming behind him. That is his choice. But it is difficult to have a mentor who takes a different path than you."

Ariadne took a step forward. "Are you saying I need a mentor? Is this your way of nominating yourself?"

Saito chuckled. "This one area where I will not pretend to have expertise. In here, Ariadne, you and I both students. We want to test ourselves, explore the possibilities."

She peered out the window, and realized they were higher up than they should have been. They were only on the second floor, but the street below was tiny and distant, and the starry sky stretched out overhead in a wide expanse.

Very little caught her off guard anymore.

"I'm surprised," she said, "that you still want to dream. After what happened."

"All dreams fade with time, if you know they aren't real."

"You're right," Ariadne said softly. "Even these types of dreams. Even the Fischer job...I remember everything, but it's not like a _memory_. It doesn't really feel like it happened."

That felt wrong somehow. What they'd done was too big to not feel real. But maybe that was why guys like Arthur could do job after job without becoming overwhelmed by the dreaming or guilt.

Thinking of Arthur reminded her of the notes he'd had on Saito. She'd read them. Had read about how Saito liked to frequent dream dens and was well-known as part of a demographic of wealthy thrill-seekers who liked to use PASIV technology as some sort of extreme sport.

Saito's voice stirred her from her thoughts. "What do you like about dreaming, Ariadne?" he asked.

"It's...total creativity. Total power. I feel like I can do anything."

"I agree."

"But it's different for you. You can do whatever you want in real life, too."

He was silent for a moment. "I wish that were true. Last week, a fire destroyed a plant of mine in Madrid. A few months ago, one of my top vice presidents retired. Maintaining my success is a demanding job, and though I don't wish to admit it, I'm growing older. In dreams, there is no pressure. And there is nothing but time. Nonetheless...it can be a lonesome activity. I need someone to share it with." Looking at her, he continued. "I want you to come to Montreal with me."

Ariadne blinked. "What? Why?"

"To help me design this building. I want to make it an experiment—the first building designed using PASIV simulation. I need a team of architects who can use the technology."

"I'll...I'll need to think about that."

It was too much to consider right now, yet, deep down she was almost certain she'd accept. She thought Saito knew that, too. It was the perfect opportunity for her. Delaying the decision was just a formality.

"Give it as much thought as you need. I won't need an answer for at least a month."

"It's a great offer, thanks. I just...I'm not sure I'm qualified."

She didn’t like the idea of getting the opportunity only because of Saito's fondness for her.

"I wouldn't offer if you weren't. When it comes to business, I try to be unbiased."

"Then I appreciate your confidence."

She peered out the window, just in time to see a shooting star brighten the night sky.

"Tell me the truth," she said. "You really weren't trying to seduce me when you invited me to live at your place?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saito smile. "You're a beautiful, confident woman, Ariadne. I would be lying if I said the idea hadn't occurred to me. But I wouldn't want to jeopardize our acquaintance. I know when a risk is unwise."

"I just don't think it'd be a good idea. I...don't want to be tied down, and I don't want to feel like a kept woman. I don't think I could go to Montreal if I felt like that."

"Understandable. I admire your independence."

"Besides, like you said. You're a married man."

"My wife has a lover of her own, actually. We spend a lot of time part. I find it's best for us to be understanding and...flexible."

"Hmm."

They looked out the window in silence for a minute. Ariadne looked at her watch, and saw that their hour of dream time was almost up. They had perhaps fifteen minutes left. She took a deep breath, turned, and put a hand on Saito's shoulder. Even in her heels, she had to stand on her toes to give him a peck on the lips.

As she pulled away and lowered her heels back to the floor, Saito regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

In response to his unspoken question, she said, "It's like you said, you can do anything in a dream."

 

* * *

 

Ariadne woke a second time on the living room sofa. This time, she could tell it was real. Saito was slouched in the chair in front of her, and she watched as he stirred and opened his eyes.

They were both silent as they took out their respective IV lines and cleaned up.

Finally, Saito said, "I hope you consider Montreal."

Ariadne had been wondering if he even remembered, and she was relieved that he brought it up. It wasn't the type of thing she'd feel comfortable broaching.

"I will. I'll think about it."

She said goodnight, and retired to her bedroom. It had been warmer in the dream, and now she felt chilly in her sleeveless dress.

She wondered what the winters were like in Montreal.  



End file.
